


Conversations we never had (English)

by Joan_of_Arc



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joan_of_Arc/pseuds/Joan_of_Arc
Summary: These characters never had these conversations, but, oh, if only they had …1) Arya-Catelyn: "I don't want to be a Lady"2) Cersei-Robert: "I can't compete with a ghost"3) Jon-Ned: "You're not really a bastard"4) Hoster-Lysa: "Love is not our Duty"5) Joffrey-Tywin: "A Powerful King"6) Ned-Cat: "My Lady, I have broken my vows"7) Joanna-Tywin: "Love them for me"8) Cersei-Myrcella: "Your role as a wife"9) Hoster-Brynden Tully: "You do Duty, I'll do Honor"
Relationships: Arya Stark & Catelyn Tully Stark, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Joanna Lannister/Tywin Lannister, Jon Snow & Ned Stark, Lysa Tully Arryn & Hoster Tully, Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister
Comments: 66
Kudos: 86





	1. Arya - Catelyn: "I don't want to be a lady"

**_ 1) Arya – Catelyn: “I don’t want to be a lady” _ **

Catelyn had been looking for her daughter all morning. After the family breakfast, both girls had been sent to their respective rooms to get dressed and ready for their lessons, but while Sansa had joined Septa Mordane in her language lecture, Arya was nowhere to be found. Knowing her daughter’s knack for disappearing and skipping lessons, Catelyn knew not to be so terribly worried about her whereabouts. Yet, after checking in the usual places where Arya would normally venture and coming up empty handed, Catelyn was starting to feel more concerned.

“There you are!” the mother exclaimed after spotting the young girl in one of the stables. She had her back to the entrance and was dancing, ducking and jumping facing a stack of hay by the corner. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to join your sister and the girls for your lessons. Beth told me you skipped the singing session again.”

“I can’t sing” came the feeble reply in between heaving and panting. Apparently she had been at this exercise long enough for her body to feel the exhaustion. 

Catelyn walked up to her daughter and upon closer inspection she realized what it was that had Arya so focused.

“Is that your dancing partner?” she asked pointing at the heap of hay in front of the girl.

Arya had built a dummy by covering a mountain of hay with an old shirt and placing a hat on top.

Caught red-handed, the girl turned around and looked sheepishly at her mother. “No” she said faintly.

Signalling at the wooden sword in her daughter’s hand Catelyn pried further. “Is that how you intend to woo the boy? You know the idea of capturing their hearts is not meant to be taken literally” she raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

“Well, I’m not going to capture a boy with my singing” she shrugged. “I’m never getting a boy at all!”

“What makes you say so?”

“I can’t sing” Arya replied ducking and thrusting forwards with her sword at the dummy.

“Not if you don’t practice.”

“I don’t want to practice. I don’t want to learn. I hate language. I hate singing. I hate poetry. I hate numbers. I hate sewing”, she emphasized every utterance with a powerful thrust at the hay dummy.

“And I suppose that poor boy over there is responsible for your tragic situation so you feel the need to hack him to pieces” her mother teased her.

“Well, at least he doesn’t pester me” Arya replied sending a side-eyed glare at her mother.

“Do I pester you?”

“Yes!” she breathed out. “No. Well. A bit.”

“Because I’m a pain and it is my joy in life to make you to suffer” her mother offered.

“No. Well, sometimes.”

“Who else pesters you?”

“Sansa!” she replied offhandedly. “Sometimes” she added tilting her head sideways. “And Robb. And father sometimes. And Jon and Bran too. Oh, and Septa Mordane. Definitely, Septa Mordane.”

“And do you think we all want you to suffer and that’s why we pester you?” When she saw the conflicted look on her daughter’s face, she stepped forwards, sat on the floor and patted the ground next to her signalling for her daughter to sit next to her. “Come”.

“I’m training” Arya shook her head.

“Show me.”

Arya looked at her mother in confusion. “You want to see me training?”

“Well, I can’t see you practising any other skill or studying any other subject, so I might as well settle for this one.”

Arya started balancing on her feet, thrusting forwards with her sword, slicing sideways and hacking downwards.

“You’re good. But when you attacked his right side, you left your head exposed.” Arya looked at her mother open-mouthed, surprise showing in her face. “I’ve seen your father and the boys train long enough to have picked a few hints here and there” she explained.

“How come I never get to train with them?”

“Would you like to?”

“Yes!!” she exclaimed. “I hate my lessons. I don’t learn anything valuable. It’s just words and mind numbing idle activities. Nothing useful. I don’t want to be useless, like Sansa.”

“Do you consider me useless?”

“No.”

“I know how to sing, that’s how I used to get you and your siblings to sleep when you were young. That’s how I used to entertain guests at Riverrun when my father held meetings with his bannermen. I can sew, that’s how I mend all your clothes that for some mysterious reason just keep tearing. And that’s how I made you and your siblings your first cloak when you were babies. I know my numbers, that’s how I help your father with inventories and help run the castle. That’s how I used to help my father, too. But I was not born knowing those things. I had to study and practice. Just like you need to practice.”

“But you like it! I don’t!”

“I learned to like it.”

“How can I learn to like something I’m horrible at? Septa Mordane is always criticizing my stitching and my language and my painting and my singing. I can’t do anything right. And Sansa is perfect.”

“She’s not perfect. She’s just-” but she was swiftly cut off by her daughter.

“Yes, she is. Everybody says so. Septa Moradne said so and she says I’m horrible!”

“Did she really say that?” Catelyn asked with concern.

“Yes! Well, not exactly in those words. But she never praises me and she only sees my faults.”

“I’ll talk to her. But the only way to improve is by practicing. It’s like this sword of yours. The only way to get better is by training and going to your lessons.”

“I hate it. I hate being a girl” she pouted. 

“Come here, sit” Catelyn patted the ground next to her again. “There are many things that I like. And that I liked when I was a girl. I couldn’t do them all, but I did enough. And there were many things I didn’t like, but I had to do them nonetheless.”

“For example?”

“Wiping your vomit when you were a baby!” Catelyn teased her.

“Well, that’s you job as a mother” Aray returned the banter.

“Exactly. It’s my responsibility, so I did it.”

“Mhh”

“What is it that you like and that you want to do?”

“I like playing and being outside and training with a sword and with the bow. But I can’t do that because I have to go to the stupid lessons. I don’t want to be a Lady and get married and run a castle and clean baby’s vomit. I wish I were a boy. A poor boy with no stupid lessons.”

“I see” Catelyn nodded. “Because you hate your life. You hate sleeping in a soft bed with warm blankets. You hate it when we sit by the fireplace and tell stories. And I know you loathe the sweet cakes we had today for breakfast. And it’s even worse when you have all the time to play with your siblings. I know, I have seen your face. I know how much you detest it when you and Bran chase each other around the gardens. And not to mention your awful clothes which are always clean and mended, and how you get new clothes when you outgrow your old ones. Yes, I completely understand. You wish you were a poor boy who had to get up at the crack of dawn, gulp down a glass of milk with a meagre loaf of bread, go work in the stables picking up manure wearing pants and shifts which may not be warm enough for the weather and whose sleeves you have outgrown. It’s a great life, working from the moment the sun comes up until the sun goes down with no time to play. If that’s the kind of life you want, we can ask your father to send you to Wintertown. Don’t worry sweetling, I’ll speak to him today. By tomorrow you’ll be free of the yoke your life is.” Catelyn finished and started to get on her feet.

“What?” asked a very confused Arya.

“Do you like your life?” Catelyn sat down again next to her daughter.

“Yes” she replied hesitantly. “But I don’t like the stupid lessons.”

“These are the things we need to do. The price we pay for our benefits. When I was your age I loved playing outside. My sister, my brother, and a ward we had, he was a dear friend. The four of us would go into the forest, we would go for a swim in the river, we would ride horses. I had a lot of fun. But I also attended my lessons. All my lessons, the ones I liked and the ones I didn’t. And I had to help my father run the castle. My mother died when I was a little girl, so I had to take care of my younger siblings. You don’t have that added responsibility. All you have to do is go to your lessons.”

“We have too many lessons.”

“No you don’t. You just need to manage your time. I found time for everything. Yes, I had to give up things I enjoyed. But I also made sure I enjoyed what I did. As highborn, we have many perks, but we also have many duties.”

“Mhh”

“One of those duties is knowing how to run a house. For that you need numbers and language. Why don’t you try to express the way you feel in words instead of hacking away at a poor hay boy with an old shirt riddled with holes” she pointed at the hay dummy for effect. “Learn how to express yourself well and you’ll be able to draft peace treaties and trading negotiations. Learn your numbers and your House will flourish. Learn how to sew and you will be able to mend the clothes you want without having to resort to other people. Learn how to sing and you’ll be able to entertain valuable guests in your house and, more importantly, make your children happy. Life is full of challenges for us to face. The key lies in how you deal with those challenges.”

Arya stayed quiet for a while, pondering what her mother had just said.

“Will I have to marry?”

“Yes, eventually. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“What if I don’t like him? What if he’s stupid?”

“Many men are stupid. Many women too. But most of them are good. Look at your father and I. When we married we didn’t love each other. In fact, we didn’t even know each other. I had been betrothed to a dashing young knight, handsome, full of life, who could sing and tell jokes, and who would take me riding in Riverrun. And look who I ended up with?” she smiled with complicity. “A dull boring man with a serious face” she winked. “And what about your father? He was free and had all his life ahead of him. Yet, he was suddenly stuck with being a Lord, Warden of the North and had to marry this boring southron girl he’d never met. Terrible isn’t is?”

“Now you’re just being silly.”

“Am I? Do you think I wanted to marry your father? Do you think he wanted to marry me?” she shook her head. “But we had to do it. It was our duty. I suppose we could have refused. He could have run away to Essos and become an explorer of fantastic exotic lands and I could have roamed the countryside watching sunsets on the lakes and mountains. But our families would have suffered for it. Your father was the last heir to House Stark since Benjen was too young. If we wanted to win the war we had to band together: Stark and Tully to defeat the Mad King. If we hadn’t done our duty the Rebellion would have never succeeded. We did our duty. But we found a way to like it. Your father and I married for duty but became a couple for love. I can’t imagine my life without him now, and I’m pretty sure he can’t imagine his without me. We built a beautiful life and had four beautiful children.”

“Five” she corrected her.

“Oh, yes, I keep forgetting about this girl who’s just a pain. Can’t remember her name now, but she’s always running around and … Ouch!” Catelyn feigned a painful groan when her daughter hit her playfully on her head with the wooden sword.

“So if I go to my lessons I will have your life?”

“Is that so bad?”

“I suppose it isn’t. I just wish they were not so boring, or that I was better at them.” Arya conceded begrudgingly.

“Let’s make a deal. You can skip singing for now. And I’ll talk to your father about getting you sword fighting training lessons. But you have to promise that you will try your best at all the other lessons, not just the ones you like.”

“I promise.”

“Remember this Arya, as highborn, we have lots of benefits most people don’t have. We have people who help make our lives comfortable. But we also have a responsibility to those people and to our families. You can’t have the perks without the duties. The only duty you have for now is to attend your lessons. And don’t worry about Septa Mordane. I’ll talk to her. She’s a good woman and she loves you, but I’ll talk to her to make sure she praises you too when you make an effort. Can we have a deal?” Catelyn extended her hand to her daughter.

“Deal” the girl replied shaking her mother’s hand.

“Now, go hack away that pestering boy before I make you marry him” Catelyn said with her finger pointing at the unfortunate heap of hay and sat back to watch her daughter revel in an activity she enjoyed doing.

  



	2. Cersei - Robert: "I can't compete with a ghost"

**_ 2) Robert – Cersei “I can’t compete with a ghost” _ **

Robert grumbled and rolled away from his wife. He cleared his throat, rubbed his face and got up. He went straight to the window and opened up the curtain. He loved it when the cool night wind blew into his groin area, he relished the sensation of the cold breeze on his warm sensitive penis.

He didn’t need to turn to know what his wife was doing. He heard her get off the bed and head to the basin. She was quick to wash the area between her legs and give a thorough scrub to her thighs, making sure no fluids were trickling down. She reached out to the chair by the bed to retrieve her robe and covered herself. Serving herself a glass of wine she shuffled towards the balcony. Same routine every time the lie together.

After his wife had finished, it was his turn to wash. He placed his flaccid member in his own basin and gently rubbed until all the remains of their coupling had been cleaned. With a big gulp of his ale he washed his mouth removing the aftertaste. Once he felt refreshed, he retuned to bed.

They had done their duty.

_I wonder if she really enjoys it when I touch her, when I kiss her. I wonder if she really enjoys it when I fuck her._

Craning his neck, King Robert Baratheon peered through the darkness of the room and stared at his wife in the balcony. The most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, she had been called. And she was his. But she was not the same girl he had married all those years ago. She had wrinkles on her face and her ass was not as firm. Het tits were starting to sag – age and feeding three babies had taken care of that. On the other hand, she was more voluptuous than the innocent young maiden he had sworn all those vows to at the Sept. And what could be said about him? Was he still the dashing knight who had won a kingdom with his warhammer? He doubted it. The added weight and his panting whenever he ran up the stairs spoke volumes as to his condition.

But they were still together. They were still King and Queen. And they had done their duty. They had enjoyed their duty. _Really? Then why am I so glum? Why doesn’t she look radiant?_

He got off the bed, threw on his underpants, grabbed another glass of ale and walked towards the balcony.

“Can I join you?” he called from the door.

“There’s a chair” she replied signalling the empty seat across the small wooden table.

“Do you think it will quicken this time?” he asked, his chin pointing at her belly.

“I can’t say.”

“We could have another girl.”

“We could” she replied noncommittally.

Robert looked out at the city below him. It was his. He had won it.

He let the night breeze fill the void in this silent conversation he was having with his wife.

“You love children. They make you happy” he pried. “Maybe more than I do” he added belatedly.

“They do” she answered her gaze lost in the horizon. “What makes _you_ happy, Robert?” she suddenly asked.

The King took his time before answering. He looked at his wife, at the city below him, the skies, the bay that opened up into the ocean miles away. He tried to look for an answer.

“I honestly don’t know” he finally said. “Sad, isn’t it? I’m King, I can do whatever I want. People let me do whatever I want. I live in the most luxurious castle. I have a beautiful wife” he said raising his cup at her. She mirrored his actions, raising her eyebrows with her head cocking sideways. “And three beautiful children. But I honestly can’t tell you if I’m happy.”

“It is indeed quite sad” she laughed mirthlessly.

“And you? What makes Queen Cersei happy?”

“Are you asking Queen Cersei? Or your wife? Or the mother of your children?”

“I’m asking the woman in front of me.”

Cersei snorted before taking a deep breath.

“I suppose Queen Cersei is quite happy with her power” she began. “People do whatever I ask them to do. But Queen Cersei would like to be heard. Have her voice heard in the Small Council. She received a good education and was trained to be in power. Plus she has the skills. Yet, her father always ignored her, deferring absolutely all his attention to her brother. Her husband never listens to her words. And the members of the council listen to her because she has a crown, not because they think she may have something to say.”

She waited a few seconds, took another sip of her wine and continued.

“The mother is very happy with her children. Three beautiful children who fill all the voids in her life. I would die for them. I would die without them.”

“And Cersei the wife?” he inquired apprehensively.

“I guess your tone was the answer in itself”

A dreadful silence fell over them again.

“We’ve been married for fifteen years Robert, but we’ve never had a marriage.”

“And why is that?” he asked dejectedly, nodding his head in agreement.

“I can’t compete with a ghost” she shrugged shoulders.

“You know, I don’t even remember what she looked like.”

“I do. Dark hair, grey eyes, small nose. Very pretty. Too bad the dragon chose her first and you never ceased choosing her after that. I wonder if you really loved her or if it was just pride, infatuation over something that had been stolen from you.”

“I did love her” he admitted.

“Did you ever love me?”

“I did. I guess. Did you ever love me?”

“I did. I’m sure” she countered. “But it only lasted a few hours. When we married I was delighted. There I was, marrying a strong and brave king who had saved the realm from the tyranny of the Mad King. I was to be a Queen. The most beautiful woman marrying the most handsome man. And yet, that very same night you came to my bed stinking of whores and cheap wine and whispered her name in my ears as you collapsed on top of me, oblivious to what we were celebrating and disregarding my presence on the bed altogether. You could have been fucking a sack of horseshit for all you cared. I swore on that day that I would only be your wife in name”

“I suppose this is where I apologize” he offered.

“Nah” she laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “That wouldn’t be you, would it?”

“But I _am_ sorry Cersei. I’m not sorry I loved her before I loved you. I’m not sorry I am the way I am. I am not sorry for all my faults. But I am sorry that I have caused you pain.”

“I suppose that’s more than I expected from you. Thank you. And I suppose this is where I promise that from now on I will be your loving wife, to hold you for all eternity, grant you heirs and spares, and devote all my living time to you, my wonderful husband.”

“Ha!” he snorted. “The day you do that would be the day the Dothraki sprout fins and swim all the way to Kings Landing” he laughed.

“That was a good one. Cheers” she raised her cup and they both toasted together.

“I don’t make you happy, do I?” he asked and pointed towards the bed in the room. She just pursed her lips and remained quiet. “I can tell Cersei. Your face. I’ve seen other women make completely difference faces. With you, it feels as if you were just waiting for the storm to pass”

“You never care for my pleasure Robert. You just stick it in, pump for some time and boom, you’re done. Do you really think all these other whores enjoy that? They make faces because they know you need those ravished facial gestures to feel happy about yourself.”

“Maybe you should get a lover. A man that makes you feel. I’ll never be up to the task.”

“Now that I have your permission, I’ll look into that” she laughed.

“What a pair we make, eh?”

“To us” she raised her cup.

“To us” he toasted with her. “To a long and prosperous marriage”

“Cheers” they both said.

An ominous silence fell over them as they sat quietly on the balcony under the starry sky of a Summer night.


	3. Jon - Ned: "You're not really a bastard"

**_ 3) Ned – Jon: “You’re not really a bastard” _ **

As Lord of Wintefell, Ned Stark had many duties. He always tried to do them diligently and with as much responsibility as he could. Yet, writing letters was not one of those tasks. He was never good with words, his drafts always being either too short or too upfront and he nearly always ended up having to rely on his wife’s assistance. As he liked to joke with her, he had the bricks but she put in the mortar and the ornaments. He knew he could always count on her for that. Unfortunately she had gone into town with the girls. _I should feign illness and wait for her._

The knock on the door gave him the perfect excuse. “Who is it?”

“Father, it’s Jon” came the reply from the door.

“Come in”

“Maester Luwin said you were looking for me” he said apprehensively. Ned could see the cogs turning inside his son’s head probably looking for clues as to what he had done wrong.

“Yes. Come. Take a seat” Ned offered. Upon seeing his son’s confused face, Ned softened his expression. “Cassel told me this morning that as of late, you were not really giving your best at training. Is that so?”

“No, father!” he quickly answered.

“Then, why would he say that?”

“I don’t know, father. Robb beat me yesterday and the day before, and so did Theon.”

“Interesting. I’ve seen you all spar and it’s always a very even fight. Sometimes you win, sometimes Robb and sometimes Theon. Is there any reason why you have not been up to the level lately?”

“They are just better than me”

“Not really. But they aren’t worse either. All three of you are equally skilled.”

“Thank you, father”

“So should I just disregard Cassel’s concern? Is he overreacting?”

“I believe so father. Besides, it is not uncommon for trueborns to be better than bastards and both your son and Theon are trueborns”

“Ah, I see. Do you think bastards are not as good?”

“They aren’t”

“Who told you that?”

“No-nobody” he stuttered. “I just know it”

“Did Cassel ever tell you that?” he asked concerned.

“No!”

“Robb or Theon?”

“No father. But I know that it doesn’t look good if the bastard beats the heir.”

“And it’s not good for the heir to have an easy sparring where he doesn’t learn much” he countered.

“Lady Catelyn doesn’t like it when I beat Robb”

“Has she said anything?” he asked concerned.

“No, father. But I know it”

“What is it that you know?” he asked softly.

“That bastards are not to be treated like trueborns. That’s why I … well, I’m just a bastard. I don’t expect much” he finished and lowered his gaze.

“Jon, do you feel you are not treated like my other sons?”

“I’m just a bastard, my Lord.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. I need you to be honest with me, Jon. I tried to give you the same life I give my other sons and Theon. Are you receiving a different treatment?” he asked earnestly.

“No, father”

“Do servants treat you differently?”

“No father”

“Do you feel different because you’re not my trueborn son?”

Jon hesitated and his silence was the answer Ned needed. “Do you feel ashamed for not being trueborn?” he rephrased the question.

“Are you ashamed of me father?”

“Of course not, Jon!” he exclaimed immediately. “Have I ever given you that impression?”

“No father.” He lowered his gaze again.

“Jon, look at me. Has anybody ever given you that impression?”

“Theon mocks me because I don’t know my mother. Robb calls me Snow. Sansa introduces me as her half-brother. Your wife refers to me as Lord Stark’s bastard.”

“Yes, all of which are true. And I have heard you and Theon call Robb Lord Tully when you’re playing because of his red hair, both you and Robb call Theon Lord Squid, Sansa and Arya call each other names too when they are bickering. But that doesn’t mean anything bad most of the times. Are you ashamed of being called Snow, of being referred to as my bastard?”

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t” he finally admitted.

“I see” his father said softly and scratched his head.

Ned slowly got up and walked past Jon. He locked the door and retuned to sit on a chair next to his boy. He took a deep breath.

“Jon, I need to tell you something, but you have to promise to keep the information to yourself for he time being” he started.

“Yes, father”

“Jon, you’re not my son.”

The statement shocked Jon into silence and his eyes went wide.

“I beg your pardon.”

“I said, you are not my son” Ned repeated.

“Wh-who am I?”

“My nephew”

“Oh, uncle Brandon” he surmised. When Ned shook his head, he tried again. “Uncle Benjen?” he asked.

“You get one more try” Ned smiled.

“Your sister?”

“And Rhaegar Targaryen” he nodded.

Jon fell silent and his face turned serious. “No” he said.

“She held you in her arms and she loved you.”

“No. No. No” he repeated. “That can’t be!”

“Why not?”

“Because she .. because that means that …” Jon trailed and stared at the floor. “How did she die?”

“You know that. It was a fever. Her body could not recover.”

“What caused the fever?”

“It could be many things, I don’t..”

“Childbirth” Jon quickly cut in.

“Jon, don’t” Ned reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Rhaegar raped her and I killed her!” Jon whispered between clenched teeth.

“You didn’t kill anyone Jon. Birthing a child is a very difficult thing for the body. Not every woman survives it. Lyanna was very young. Do you remember when Rickon was born? Lady Catelyn was abed for days. And she was a grown woman who had had other children before. You didn’t kill your mother, and she loved you very much. Just like I do.”

“And my father?”

“I don’t know. I never really knew if they ran away together or if she was taken. I never knew if she loved him, but I know she loved you. And I knew that you were in danger if I didn’t take you with me. I also knew you would be in danger if the wrong people found out who you were.”

They remained in a quiet embrace, Ned allowing the boy he loved like a son to process everything he had just been told.

“I brought you here and called you my son. For all intents and purposes you are indeed my son, Jon.”

“I’m not” he snapped quickly disentangling himself from Ned’s arms.

“I call you my son. You are treated like a son of mine, given the same education, living in the same quarters and sharing everything with my other children. Your siblings have for you the same love they hold for one another. There is nothing you should be ashamed of. And you lack for nothing Jon. I wish you could see how fortunate you are.”

“Fortunate? I’m a bastard!

“Officially, yes you are.”

“Everybody sees me as a bastard!”

“And yet, are you ever treated like a bastard?”

When Jon did not reply Ned grabbed his hand again.

“Jon, I made sure you were always treated like a son of mine. I know Luwin teaches you like he teaches Robb. Cassel gives you and Theon then same training my heir gets. The servants give you the same food at the same table as my sons. My wife, yes, she may not like the idea of you living here, and she has her reasons, none of which are your fault, but she never got in your way. Your brothers and sisters love you. You were never denied anything Jon and you were never treated any differently for not being a trueborn son. You are loved by everyone. You’re not really a bastard, Jon. I wish you could see that. I can’t take away the stigma of being a bastard, but I tried to make sure you were never treated as such in our house. Please tell me where I erred that has made you so dissatisfied. What can I do to make it better?”

“I wish .. I … I want ..”

“I really need you to be honest with me Jon. Is there anything happening than I’m not aware of? Has any of the servants ever treated you differently? Has anyone ever mocked you for being a bastard? My wife? My children? And I don’t mean your usual bickering and mutual banter with Theon or Robb. I mean someone snubbing you for not being trueborn.”

“No” Jon finally admitted.

“Jon” Ned breathed out opening his arms to him again. “Do you realize how fortunate you are? Yes I made you my bastard. It may or may not have been the best solution, but it saved your life and allowed you to live here with us – your family. And you have the life many actual trueborn children would envy. How many bastards do you know get to live like a Lord? It’s a pity you don’t see it.”

Jon took a deep breath and remain silent for a minute.

“What about my future?” he suddenly asked.

“What do you mean?” Ned replied taken aback.

“My future as a bastard. Robb will be your heir and he will inherit Winterfell. Sansa and Arya will marry some Lord and become Ladies. Bran and Rickon will probably become squires or will have a castle of some kind. Theon is the heir to Pyke. What about me? What have I got to look forwards to? Will I always be Robb’s bastard brother who doesn’t amount to anything?”

“Jon” Ned started. “Who says you don’t amount to anything?”

“Well, what have I got?” he challenged back.

“I..” Ned faltered.

“Yes? What future does a bastard have?”

His even expression masked his confusion, but Jon could tell his uncle was at a loss.

“I guess I never really thought about that” Ned finally admitted. “What would you like?”

“I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about it, either” he smiled faintly.

“Would you like to be acknowledged as a Targaryen? As Rhaegar’s and my sister’s?”

“Would that be any good? It might put you and my siblings in danger. There’s a reason you kept it hidden all these years. Maybe not for now. Maybe. I don’t know” he shrugged his shoulders. “Besides, you’re the only father I’ve ever known. The only father who’s ever loved me.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Jon” he replied visibly relieved. “Now, if I’m to remain as your father, we can’t go naming Lyanna as your mother” Ned joked playfully.

“Nah, that wouldn’t be appropriate, would it?” Jon replied and they both shared a much needed laugh.

“But you’re right, son” Ned continued, emphasising the word son. “You do need a future. And as much as I have strived to give you a good life, in that respect I admit I am at fault.”

“Can I be made a Stark?”

“You are a Stark, Jon.”

“No. I’m a Snow.”

“I see. Making you a legitimate Stark as a son of mine could indeed be a possibility, but that would prevent you from claiming your true origins should you ever want to.”

“I suppose I might, one day.”

“Many Snows and Rivers and Waters have achieved wonderful feats. Your worth is not in your name but in your actions. You said Robb will be my heir. And it’s true. He will inherit Winterfell. Gods forbid something should happen to him, it will be Bran and then Rickon who will take my place. As my bastard son, you come after Rickon. If nobody knows you’re not my son, then nobody will contend it.”

“Gods forbid something happens to Robb, father. Or that something happens to Bran or Rickon. Gods forbid father. But then, what have I got?”

“What all second and third sons have, Jon. What I would have had myself, had my brother not been killed. I can have you squire for the Umbers or the Glovers. I can give you a small holdfast to yourself and you can start your own cadet branch We have options Jon. But we have time to consider them.”

“All right father.”

“I meant everything I said Jon. You may be a bastard on paper, but you are my son for everything that counts. You’re not really a bastard, Jon, you never really had the life of one. I wish you could see that. I do apologize if I ever made you feel you had no future. To be fair, my wife and I have not wanted to plan a future for any of our children yet, because that would imply them growing up and leaving us. Or us dying. And that includes you. If I could, I would keep all of you with me forever. But I’m glad you made me see my error. My selfish whim meant a lack of planning which has caused you pain.”

“Will you really give me a small holdfast?”

“If that’s what you want. I want to give you the same I would give my other sons, Jon. If I’m to give you a place, I need to do the same for Bran and Rickon. I can try that. For now, I can have you squire for the Umbers if you wish. You can start making your own name that way.”

“That would be a good start I suppose.”

“Don’t give me an answer now. Sleep on it. Squiring away would mean leaving home. Leaving your family and everybody who loves you. Leaving the one place where you’re not treated like a bastard. On the other hand, it could be the stepping stone for you to start living your own life. And you can always claim your true name.”

“Yes” the young boy replied pensively.

“We have time Jon. We have time. But I’m glad we had this conversation. It was long overdue. But remember, nobody knows Jon. The information I gave you could cause you and all our family great harm if it reaches the wrong ears. Whenever you feel you want to claim your real parents you let me know and we’ll do it right. It’s your decision, Jon”

“Thank you, father.”

“You’re a good lad, Jon” his father patted him on the shoulder. “Now go back to the training yard. And for your sake I hope the next words I hear from Cassel is how you beat Robb and Theon.”

Ned ushered Jon out of his solar and went back to his letters.

_Dear Lord Umber,_

_I was thinking about the possibility of sending one of my sons to squire for you in the future …_

_  
_


	4. Hoster - Lysa: "Love is not our Duty"

**_ 4) Hoster – Lysa “Love is not our duty” _ **

Dark. It was dark and she couldn’t see. Somebody must have closed the drapes. _Open them!_ she yelled, but the words would not come out.

Voices. She could hear distant voices. _Why are they so far?_ She wondered. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. Something about that boy Brandon, her sister’s betrothed. Something about propriety. _Propriety?_ She recognized the voices. Her father, her uncle, her sister. The maester and some of the lady servants. Something about tea. _I’m more hungry than thirsty,_ she tried to tell them. Something about washing and bathing. She heard her brother’s voice and her uncle again. Something about Petyr. _Petyr!_

She willed her eyes open and was met with the familiar sight of her own room. She was in her own bed wearing her usual night gown. Except for the numbness that fogged her mind, everything looked normal. But then, why was she faced with worried eyes and relieved smiles? Her father gave her a kiss on her forehead, her sister hugged and her brother tugged her hand. Her uncle gave her a reassuring squeeze of her shoulders. When she made to move, too many voices reached her ears making her head spin. _Quiet!_ she tried to beg them. 

“You’re awake!” her brother yelled excitedly.

“Lysa” her sister added.

“Honey, you’re back” said her uncle.

“My sweetling, I’m glad you’re back with us” her father smiled.

“Where did I go?” Lysa was at a complete loss.

“What do you remember?” her father’s tender voice asked with concern.

_Cat’s betrothal party. Brandon and Catelyn dancing. Brandon. He’s tall and handsome. Edmure liked him. Brandon played with Edmure. Brandon talked to her. Cat was happy. Her father was pleased and proud. … Petyr was not. He was sulking in a corner. Petyr asked Cat for a dance. They danced. They smiled. She wanted to dance with Petyr. Petyr did not look at her. Petyr looked at Cat. He looked at Brandon. He wanted Cat’s hand. Why not mine? Brandon laughed. Her father scowled. Her uncle shook his head. A duel. A young scrawny boy against a strapping experienced knight. No! He’s hurt. He’s going to die. … Petyr’s room. Petyr’s bed. Petyr’s kiss. Petyr’s love. Petyr’s words. “Cat”._

“How’s Petyr?” was all she managed to ask.

“He’s fine” her father reassured her. “He’s in his room and Maester Kym is caring for his wound.”

Lysa nodded and said nothing. _Leave!_ She wanted to tell them. _Take me to Petyr,_ she wanted to ask.

Her father turned to the rest of the family and asked them to leave. _Thank you_ , she wanted to say. Lord Tully added that he wished to speak to her daughter alone and ushered everyone else out of the room. _No, I don’t want to talk_ , Lysa wanted to yell. _I want to be alone. I want to be with Petyr._

“How do you feel?” her father kneeled next to her bed and asked her tenderly.

“Dizzy” she whispered. “My head hurts. And my belly aches. A lot”

“I know sweetling. Maester Kym said it might bring you discomfort.”

“What might bring me discomfort? What happened?”

“That Baelish boy” her father shook his head and took a deep breath.

“Petyr? He didn’t do anything to me.”

“Oh, yes he did, my sweetling. But you’re too innocent to see it. That ungrateful bastard took your innocence.”

_Petyr’s kisses. On her cheeks. On her lips. Or was she kissing him? His eyes were closed. She took his clothes. He did not move. She opened his shirt and sat with him. Sat on him. She took care of him. She offered him her love. And he returned it, didn’t he? He was inside her. He held her when she hurt. His eyes were closed. I love you, he said. Cat, he moaned._

“What happened to me?”

“We fixed it sweetling” her father reassured her.

“What did you fix?”

“Your innocence. Your future. Our family’s future.”

“My future?”

“Yes. There will be no stain, sweetling. You’ll be clean” he replied sweetly.

“Clean?” she was starting to get dizzy again. “Clean from what?” she dreaded to know

“From him.”

“I was not stained, father.”

“Oh, my sweet child. So innocent” he kissed her forehead.

“I love him”

_Catelyn danced with Brandon. Petyr was gazing at Cat. Petyr fought Brandon for Cat. I kissed him. I opened myself to him. I love you, he said. Cat, he moaned._

“Love is not our duty. Family and Honor are. He represents neither.”

“He loves me” she replied faintly. _Cat, he moaned._

“I will find you another one. A better one”

“It hurts, father” her hand went to her belly. “Why does it hurt?”

“Because you’re clean.”

“What did you do father?”

“It’s gone. It’s not inside you anymore”

“But I wanted it”

_I love you, he said. Cat, he moaned._

“Moon tea?” she finally voiced the question that had been in her head since she woke up.

“Yes. Maester Kym made it specially for you” he replied tenderly.

“But I wanted it.”

“No, sweetling. You’re too young.”

“Cat is betrothed. Why can’t I be betrothed? Can I be betrothed to Petyr?”

“No, not him. I’ll find you another one.”

“I don’t want another one. I want Petyr.”

“He’s not for you.”

“He loves me.”

“Does he?” he countered caressing her cheek. “It is not you he asked to dance. It is not you he duelled another man for. It is not you he almost died for.”

_It is not you whose name he moaned,_ hear mind screamed at her.

“Petyr embarrassed himself. He embarrassed our family. He soiled you. He took advantage of you.”

_But it was I who took advantage of him._

“You hurt me father.”

“I did. But because I love you.”

“You could have asked.”

Hoster straightened his back and opened his mouth, but no words came out. He meant to say something, but he seemed incapable of uttering what he wanted to say.

“Do you truly love him?” the words finally left his mouth.

“I do.”

“I’m sorry sweetling. I didn’t know. I never meant to hurt you. I did what I did because I love you and I want what’s best for you.”

“And what’s best for me?”

“Not the Baelish boy. Another strong young knight who will make you happy and who will cherish you.”

_Cat, he moaned_

“Like Brandon makes Cat happy?”

“Yes, like Brandon.”

“He has a younger brother.”

“Yes” he laughed lovingly. “But we don’t need another Stark. I’ll find you another one. A good River Lord. There’s the Mallister lad, Patrek. Or the Bracken boy. There was that Frey boy you talked to at Walder’s last wedding.”

“There’s Jaime Lannister.”

“Yes, there’s a sea of opportunities for you. We’re going to put the incident with Petyr behind us. He will be sent away and nobody will know what happened. We will find one for you. And you will learn to love him. And he will learn to love you. And you’ll be happy. I promise.”

_I know you love me, but you hurt me, father._

_I know Petyr loves me, but he hurt me._

_I love Petyr, but I hurt him._

“I’ll make sure you’re happy, my sweet girl” her father kissed her forehead. “I promise.”

  



	5. Joffrey - Tywin: "A Powerful King"

**_ 5) Tywin – Joffrey “A powerful king” _ **

“Your Grace, the Ambassador seems reluctant to accept your proposal on taxes” Varys offered cautiously, eyeing the rest of the Small Council to weigh the support he might get.

“It was not a proposal, it was an order!” the bang on the table emphasized his point.

“Your Grace, perhaps we should review their counter offer” Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin suggested.

“I am King. My offer _is_ the offer” the young monarch stated leaving no room for discussion.

“Perhaps we should see…”

“Perhaps we should help the Ambassador see who the King is” Joffrey Baratheon interrupted his advisors. “I am the King. I make the decisions. And whoever disagrees will be shown the consequences.”

“Perhaps we should let the king make up his mind” the grave voice of the Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, brought everybody to silence. “Leave” he ordered the members of the Small Council.

The King shot him a glare, whether of gratitude or anger it was difficult to gauge.

“What do you think you are doing?” the old lion questioned his grandson.

“I’m making decisions.”

“No, you’re throwing tantrums.”

“I am King. I am to be obeyed.”

“Why are you king?”

“Because my father died. Are you questioning my rule?”

“No. I’m questioning you about its importance. Why was your father king?”

“Because he won the Rebellion” the boy king countered, “while you, oh mighty grandfather, stayed in your castle waiting to see which way the tide turned before joining the fight” derision and mockery seeping from his tone.

“That’s not what I did, but it’s beside the point. Your father orchestrated a rebellion and remained king for more than fifteen years. Why did nobody rebel against him?”

“Because they respected him!” the boy started raising his voice.

“No need to yell. I’m sitting right beside you” he replied calmly. “How many Ambassadors did your father turn away?”

“I don’t know.”

“How many people did your father imprison or execute?”

“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps you should know. Perhaps you should study other kings to see what made them successful. Your father started a Rebellion. Do you know why?”

“Because Aerys was mad.”

“What made people think Aerys was mad that they wanted to rebel against him, but not against your father?”

“Aerys burned people. My father was a good king.”

“That’s debatable” Tywin muttered. “But he had something Aerys didn’t: the respect of his people. Truth be told, you father was a shitty king. He couldn’t rule nor did he care about it. But he knew how to delegate. He allowed people who knew how to do their jobs to work for him to the best of their abilities. People did not rebel against him because they had no cause. People rebelled against Aerys because they did.”

“I don’t need to be respected. I need to be obeyed” Joffrey stood up and glared at his grandfather.

Tywin took a small sip of his cup, swallowed, lowered the cup to the table again and looked at his grandson purposefully.

“Sit down” he ordered calmly.

“I will sit when I want to. And you will respect me or you will join the Ambassador in the black cells. I’ll lock you up. I swear.”

“You will do no such thing” the old man said in a deliberately slow tone. “Sit down.”

Joffrey locked eyes with his grandfather and started breathing fast.

“Sit down” he repeated and waited for his grandson to get back on his chair. “As I was saying, a powerful king is respected. Respect is not gained by how loud you yell or how many people you execute. Respect is gained by actions. Respect your people and they will respect you. Care for them and they will fight for you. A hungry people will rise up. Refuse the Ambassador and you will not get the grain. No grain means hungry people. You do the math.”

“So what are you saying, that I should just accept his proposal for the taxes?”

“No, his proposals are outrageous. But you need to sit with him. Negotiate with him. Refuse him in a way that he thinks he’s getting a deal. How do you think I won this war for you? How do you think I got rid of the Stark army so easily? I didn’t go to the Riverlands to yell at Robb Stark. I sat down and thought. I reached out to people I thought might help my needs and had them do the dirty job. They thought they were getting an advantage, while all the time it was _me_ getting the advantage. I defeated an enemy and won two unconditional allies without a drop of our blood.”

Joffrey looked at his grandfather and remained silent.

“I want to be a powerful King” he finally said.

“You are. You can be. But you need to act like one. A powerful King knows what to get from his people. You have a Master of Coin who can get the best deals for you. You have a Master of Whispers who can learn secrets you can’t even begin to fathom. You have a mighty army and you have Master of Ships to transport such army. You have different regions which are rich in different resources. You have all these assets in your favour. But you will only be able to get the best out of them if you use them wisely.”

“How?”

“Listen to them. Listen to your advisors. Rule with an iron fist, but make your people think it’s for their own good. Be strict, lest people rebel against you. But when you bring people to justice, make sure it’s justice and not a whim. Killing Ned Stark was a whim, and look what it brought us. The Tarbecks and Reynes rebelled against me. I executed stern justice. Nobody has rebelled against me since. You kill your enemies to destroy their will. Killing Ned Stark only made them stronger. You were told not to, and yet you still did it. That was childish and it cost us dearly.”

“I didn’t want to look weak.”

“You look weak when act like a bratty child. You look strong when you act like a man.”

“He was a liar! And he was insulting me. Insulting us”

“By killing him, you didn’t prove him a liar, you proved yourself fearful of what he had to say”

“You had better watch what you say, grandfather.”

“Or what? You’re going to have me killed. What would that prove?”

“That I am the one in power.”

“No. It would only prove that you do not know how to face opposition. You kill enemies in war. You use them during peace.”

“Do you mean that I should use you?”

“Do you mean that I’m your enemy?”

“You’re opposing me.”

“I’m teaching you.”

Joffrey bit his lips and squinted. He wanted to rage and vent, but he didn’t.

“I can be a good king, can’t I?” the small boy in him finally surfaced.

“Yes, you can.”

“Teach me” his voice sounded almost like a plea.

The old man nodded reassuringly. “The first thing you need to do right now is negotiate with the Ambassador. None of this _I am King_ bullcrap and none of this _Black cells_ nonsense. Invite him over to your solar. Discuss terms with him. You need to appear firm and assertive, not whiny. The terms he offers are ridiculous. Let him know you will not be robbed, but reassure him that you do want the deal to come through. Give him a counter offer. For this you need to listen to your advisors.”

Tywin paused to let his grandson reflect and then continued.

“As King, you’re not expected to do everything yourself. You have people to do things for you. That doesn’t mean you’ll always do what they say, but let them think they’re doing their job. If you keep shooting them down, they will cease to be forthcoming.”

Joffrey bit his lip and nodded pensively.

“The realm needs to recover from this war. You need to fortify the bonds between the regions. You need to be seen as strong but forgiving. Your enemies should feel they have no need to rebel, but they should know that if they do, they will fail.”

“How do I do that?”

“Let the Stark girl go North with Tyrion. The North will think you merciful, but all we are doing is making sure a Lannister rules from Winterfell. We don’t need her in the capital, she’s just a burden. And the longer she remains in our hands, the sooner she will become a cause for the Northerners to rebel. Let her go as a token of your peace and the North will think they have won something.”

“Won’t they think me weak if I let Sansa go?”

“Some might. But you have to ask yourself, what do we gain by keeping her here?”

“She’s a hostage. They know that if they do something, I will kill her.”

“And who’s they? She has no family left. The north doesn’t care about a girl. Nobody cares about her. But if you let her go, she can become a currency for peace.”

“Will this work?”

“Tyrion will make sure it works, he needs to make up for his failings” Tywin paused and pursed his lips. “We also need to fortify your bonds with other regions. I was going to have your mother marry Willas Tyrell, but that won’t be necessary. You will marry the Tyrell girl instead. The Reach will be yours.”

“Then, it’s done!” Joffrey’s eyes suddenly lit up with a grin. “The West is ours by right. I rule in the capital. The Reach and the North will be our allies” Joffrey started counting and his grandfather nodded. “What about the Ironborn? They rebelled once years ago and have rebelled now yet again. The Vale? Lord Arryn’s widow hasn’t declared for us yet. And Dorne? How do I bring them to me?

“These are good questions. It shows you’re learning” Tywin nodded in approval. “Who are the Ironborn attacking?

“The North.”

“Well, then that is their problem now, isn’t it? We will promise assistance should they require it” Tywin finished and waved his hand dismissively. “The Vale? Where do they stand?” he was testing his grandson.

“Lysa Arryn never declared for either side. She remained neutral.”

“There’s no such thing as neutral in war. Family Duty Honor. Family compelled her to side with her sister in the North. Duty compelled her to remain loyal to the King. The Vale did not rise up against you.”

“Is she an ally then?”

“No, she’s nothing. She’s weak and just gets in the way. She does not have much support in the Vale. If she were to be eliminated, her people would not really complain, especially if her son remains in power. He’s young and fragile, easily manipulated. But you have an asset who can get you the Tully woman and can give you a way in” he prompted.

“Baelish?”

“Untrustworthy as any. But he has a weakness: ambition. Make him Lord of the Vale regent to Jon Arryn’s son.”

“What shall I do with Dorne?”

“What shall be done with them? They have been quiet since Elia Martel’s death and should continue to be so, especially since your uncle had the mighty idea to sell them your sister for no gain whatsoever” he added shaking his head in disappointment. “Your uncle made a strategic mistake, but that should keep Dorne quiet for the time being. The royal princess is betrothed to their Prince. They can’t get a higher reward.”

“We have won the war and got rid of all our enemies!” Joffrey exclaimed excitedly.

“The _we_ is debatable, but yes” he nodded and his grandson smiled happily.

“So, back to the Ambassador. You will call him back and sit down with him. Listen to his terms and tell him that you will make him a counter offer. Make sure he feels reassured. You must get _your_ terms but make him feel _he_ is the one getting the deal. You will … ”

  



	6. Ned - Cat: "My Lady, I have broken my vows"

**_ 6) Ned – Cat: “My Lady, I have broken my vows” _ **

_I’m King of the Vale!_

_I’m King of the Reach!_

_I’m King of the Stormlands!_

The boyish voices echoed in the yard. Robb, Jon and Theon exchanged victory chants, blows with their wooden swords and blocks with their little painted shields. As a father Ned Stark watched with glee as his children played together. He loved seeing his oldest son and heir, his nephew whom he loved as a son (and whom everybody actually believed was his son), and his ward (whose legal status as a hostage was hardly ever acknowledged) bonding like the family they were. One day they were three mighty Lords, another day three kings, sometimes wildlings and giants, some other days knights and dragons.

His wife was standing next to him, enjoying the childish display in front of her. Yet, upon closer inspection, she seemed tense. Every time Robb attacked one of his companions she breathed out a sigh of relief, every time he was attacked she pursed her lips and squinted her eyes. She grabbed the railing of the balcony every time Jon taunted her son. Her actions might have been imperceptible for anyone who didn’t know her, but not for her husband of so many years. He would have liked to chalk these reactions up to regular motherly concern, but he knew there was more to it. _Jon._

Oblivious to the Lord and Lady Stark’s inner concerns, the mock battle continued in the yard. In the end, it was Ned Stark’s bastard son who was the last one standing.

_Yield! I’m King of the Seven Kingdoms. Surrender to me or face the consequences! You shall be my prisoners or you shall perish!_

The make-believe war ended just like so many others had before, in laughter and cheers. And just like so many times before, the children retired to the kitchens for a well earned afternoon snack. This gave Ned the cue to retire himself after clapping all three children for the show they had given and congratulating the winner. He turned to take his wife with him, but she was already gone - her silhouette shuffling through the door back into the main hall. 

He knew why. It was not that her son had lost. He had lost before, just as many times as he had won. It was her fear of Jon. He had seen it before. She made a great effort for her fears not to show, but he knew. And he ached for it. He ached for her and for Jon. He had wished Catelyn would love Jon the way he loved him – as a son. But how could he ask that of her? How could he ask her to embrace the shame his bastard son represented? Maybe if she knew the truth … yes … that night he would tell her. He would come clean. She would see that it was not a dishonour but an honourable deed what he had done. She would see that Jon was not a threat but family. Yes, he would tell her. She deserved it. And so did Jon.

It was after dinner that she retired to her chambers and he walked after her.

“My Lady, may I come in?” he called from the door.

“Of course, my Lord. This room is as much mine as it is yours.”

“Well, these are your chambers. I have my own. But I do certainly enjoy sharing it with you every night” he winked at her. Truth be told, he hadn’t used his own room in ages.

“Of course” was her timid reply. She walked up to the vanity and proceeded to unbraid her hair.

He could see her reflection on the mirror, her gaze aloof and her lips tensed. Grabbing her hands gently he silently asked for permission to undo her braids. He stood at her back and sensed more than heard her sharp intake of air.

“I’m sorry if your intentions are otherwise, Ned, but I am really tired tonight” she excused herself talking to his reflection on the mirror.

“Cat, you don’t need to put up excuses. As much as I enjoy it, and know that you enjoy it too, it’s not a duty to lay together. Sometimes I just enjoy snuggling up to you as you snore” he smiled with his fingers sifting through her hair.

“I don’t snore” she replied with feigned offence.

“Or so you think” he said planting a kiss on her hair. “But tonight I just wanted to talk to you. There’s something I need to tell you” he said and his tone turned sombre.

“What is it ?” she asked concerned, their eyes meeting on the mirror on top of the vanity.

“My Lady, I regret to say that I have broken my vows to you.”

She went rigid. All the warmth they were sharing through his fingers untangling her hair dissipated. She slowly walked away from him and made for the window. With her eyes lost in the distance she gave her back to her husband.

“You are a man. And as such I understand you may have needs. The only thing I will ask is that I shall be respected. I would ask of you not to dishonour me more than you already have. If you have lain with yet another woman and have begotten yet another bastard, all I ask is that you do not bring him here. For the love you bear me, please do not shame me any further. And if not for me, for the children we have together. For any concern you have about their safety, please do not bring any more dangers into our home. You’ve already raised one bastard and given him all he needs to take what belongs to our children. Please do not endanger them any further. I will not tell you what to do with any of your bastards, but I will ask you shall not bring any other bastard into our home.”

Ned strived to make eye contact with his wife, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not find her face. Bridging the distance between them, he put a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided his other hand to her face.

“That’s not what I meant” he said turning her head and wiping the tears that were pooling in the corner of her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

Silently she bid him continue.

“I said I have broken my vows, but I have not lain with another woman.”

“Just that once” she prodded.

“Not even that once” he shook his head. “I know I hurt you, but please know that I never meant for you to feel that way.”

“My Lord, what you did back then is in our past. I know you slept with another woman after we wedded and I know you had a son. I see him everyday. But we are over that and we have moved on. Please do not bring it up again” she replied curtly.

“I have never slept with a woman that is not you, nor have I had a son with a woman that is not you.”

“Do not take me for a fool, my Lord.”

“I would never dream of doing so.”

“So, what, you found Jon under a tree and decided to humiliate your wife and endanger your son and heir just for fun?”

“Jon is not mine. He is my blood, but not my son.”

She was silent for a minute, so he took this opportunity to guide her to the bed.

“When I arrived at the Tower of Joy I found my sister. She was dying. Bleeding out on the bed. The birthing bed. I held her son as she drifted away. She asked me to protect him, so I did.”

“Lyanna?” she whispered. “And Rhaegar?” Ned nodded and she tried to process the information. “Was it ..? I mean, did she go willingly?” she asked and cringed considering the alternative.

“I think so. She didn’t really say much about it. And I didn’t really have time to think. I just knew I had to protect him.”

“From Robert?”

“Yes. He was bent on destroying anything Targaryen. I couldn’t let him kill my nephew. The last reminder I had of my sister.”

“But why the lie?”

“I had to hide him.”

“From me? Did you think you had to protect your nephew from me?”

“No, not from you. Through you.”

“You used me” she accused him.

“I never thought it would hurt you so bad”

“And how did you think I would feel?”

“I didn’t know what to do Cat. I’m sorry.”

They were sitting on the side of the bed, their fingers intertwined with one another.

“I was never unfaithful to you, my love”

“Oh yes, you were, _my love_ ” she sneered. “Only that not for just one night as I had thought, but for all these years since then.”

“I understand that you may be angry, but all I ask is that you direct that anger at me and not at Jon.”

“And when have I ever directed my anger at him? You brought me shame and endangered my children and I have remained quiet all these years. Dreading and feeling unfit for years thinking I was not good enough for you and fearing you would prefer your other son over our children. And all for nought.”

Ned was at a loss. He truly thought learning the truth would make his wife feel better. Convinced she would be relieved that he had not lain with another woman, he hadn’t considered the possibility that she might be further offended by the lie. His mind drifted to the game the boys had been playing earlier that day. Jon had been given the training and the tools to defeat Robb and take his place. That was precisely what she feared.

“I understand why you brought him here. I would have done the same thing myself with a son of Lysa or Edmure. But did you realise the danger you were placing us in?”

“I had hoped for nobody to know any better, so there wouldn’t be any danger. Just a run-of-the-mill bastard” he shrugged his shoulders.

“A run-of-the-mill bastard from the most honourable man in Westeros who never breaks any vows? A run-of-the-mill bastard who is raised, educated and treated just like a trueborn son?”

“He is my nephew Cat!”

“And he is mine too, apparently”

They locked eyes, both trying to find the words to continue the conversation.

“Does he know?” she finally asked.

“No”

“Our lives are in danger Ned. Jon is still a danger to our children, just not for the reasons I had thought.”

“What are you saying?” he asked fearfully. Surely she did not mean to send him away.

“That if we want him to be safe, the charade needs to continue. No-one can know,” she started, “but you need to tell him, one day when he grows older.”

“One day. When he grows older and understands the implications of why I did it and what it means.”

“For everybody’s safety I hope nobody else finds out.”

With that ominous phrase she stood up and continued with her nightly ritual turning her back to him once again. Ned watched as she took off her dress and donned her nightgown. He mimicked her actions and got ready for bed as well.

She faced away from him and he snuggled around her body providing the warmth he knew she always craved for, and which he relished giving. He could sense her shivering, but he knew it was not from the cold. As he held her close and rested his head on the back of her neck she whispered faintly into night air.

“I’m glad you told me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had already done a "Jon/Cat finds out" scene in two other stories of mine. It was dificult to think of a different reaction they might have while still maintaining the traits that make Jon, Cat and Ned who they are ... I hope I haven't made them out of character ...
> 
> Thanks.


	7. Joanna - Tywin: "Love them for me."

**_ 6) Joanna - Tywin: “Love them for me” _ **

_Not long now … not long._

His heart felt heavy in his chest.

_That creature. That vile creature …_

That thing was not his son. That thing was a monster that had ruined his family.

He held on to his wife’s hand, willing his blood and life into her. She was pale. Her eyes were half closed and her mouth half open. She was half here, half on the other side. Halves. Just like that creature: half a human, half a monster. Half his son.

He sensed a soft squeeze of his hand and looked up to see his wife half smiling at him.

“You’re here,” she whispered softly.

“I never left,” came his choked reply.

“But I will leave you soon.”

“Not if I can’t help it,” he replied willing all his blood and all his soul into her slim weak fingers.

He had prayed to all his gods. Who would have thought? The mighty Lion who had had no qualms extinguishing two families for daring to oppose him, reduced to a begging broken man. He would bring back the Tarbecks and the Reynes to keep his wife. He would offer the vile creature to make sure she lived. He would give up the Rock in exchange for her. But the Gods were not listening. The Gods had mocked him. They were taking his strong anchor and giving him a deformed useless piece of nothing in her stead. What good could that baby do?

“Tywin, my love, I’m trying. And I know you’re trying too. But the gods have spoken. I’ve done my duty. Now it’s up to you to uphold it.” She had made peace with her situation.

“No. I can’t accept it!” He hadn’t.

“You’ve been to war. You’ve been in battles. You could have died many times. Men die in battles. This is our battle – a woman’s war. I’ve fought before and come back unscathed. Not this time, my love.”

She was his rock. She was the reason for his smiles. His fortune gave him power. His power gave him pride. But it was her love that gave him a reason to live. Without her all he had was power and pride.

“Love them for me,” she begged.

“No. I will love them with you.”

“They will need you, Tywin. Cersei, she’s a lovely girl. Wilful and proud. Watch her. Guide her. She’s smart but she needs to be guided. Don’t lose her.”

“No.” He still could not accept it.

“Please. She’s not your heir, but don’t dismiss her for being a girl. I know how hard it is to be a girl in a man’s world. Hold her. Listen to her like you do with me. Teach her like you know I would.”

He nodded and squeezed her hand again. But his blood still refused to seep into her.

“Take care of Jaime. He’s a sweet boy. Don’t confuse his tenderness for weakness. Teach him how to be you. Teach him how to rule. He loves her sister, just like she loves him. Keep them that way. United siblings is the strongest asset a family can have. They were born as one and they live as one. But make sure they know they are two. Too much bonding can be dangerous – it can lead to blurry lines and confusion.”

Silence took hold of the room once again.

“I’ll look after them both.”

“Them three,” she said feebly. Tywin could see her strain to lift her eyelids and meet his eyes. “Three, Tywin.”

“Three,” he replied biting his lip.

“He’s innocent. He’s a baby. My baby. Our baby. Your son.”

“No son of mine would kill his own parent.”

“He didn’t kill me Tywin. It was the Gods. And I’m still here,” she tried to smile.

“Yes.”

“Love him. He will need help, Tywin. And he will need love. Make sure he is not held back by the unfortunate circumstances of his birth. Do it for me. Please.”

She breathed heavily and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

“We have three beautiful children Tywin. Love them in my honor. Make them proud in my memory. All three. Tell them that family is everything. Foster love between them and they won’t give you cause for concern. Cersei can be a mother to little Tyrion. She can be a wonderful mother and he will need all the support he can get. Jaime will be a great asset to you. He has the makings to be a great chivalrous knight to honour the family name. He can be the knight to protect his little brother.”

He kissed her knuckles but his blood still refused to heed his command. _Save her._

“If they don’t live up to your standards, don’t take it out on them. Maybe it’s your standards that are wrong. I know I’m leaving my children in your hands and you are the best father I can ever dream of. Love them for me.”

“All three,” he finally acquiesced. _Not that vile creature. Not he one who’s taking you away from me,_ his mind wanted to rage but his heart kept him in check _._

“All three.”

“I promise.” And he meant it.

Their hands were clasped together, their fingertips kissing one another. He was still willing all his life essence into hers, but the Gods refused to obey his order. The Gods were beyond his sphere of influence. Men he could mould to his convenience. Soldiers he could order around. Battles he could plan and win. Castles he could build. But the Gods were above him. … Or were they? If the Gods were so set on deserting him, why shouldn’t he do the same to them?

The Gods were taking his Joanna, but it was up to him to decide what to keep from her. They cannot take away what he refuses to part with. He has the power to decide. And he had decided to keep her memory, her pride. That was for him to embrace and not for the gods to take. He would embrace the children she had given her. All three. He would show the Gods who is in charge. 

He continued to clench his fists around her limp hands, still trying to will his blood into her. He watched her chest rise and fall. Slowly. Methodically. Silently. Until it rose no more.

The Gods had won this battle, but the war was long and far from over. Joanna had left him with three golden treasures and he intended to make sure all three learned what it meant to be a Lannister. He will do it for her.


	8. Cersei - Myrcella: "Your role as a wife"

**_ 8) Cersei - Myrcella: “Your role as a wife” _ **

_Stupid Imp!_

_Stupid, good for nothing Imp!_

_Stupid, good for nothing, evil greedy creature of an Imp!_

He had sold her daughter, her little girl. He had gone behind her back and sold Myrcella for his own nefarious plans. He was always scheming, always undermining her. He was always getting in her way, sabotaging her plans and thwarting her efforts. He had sent her men away, poisoned her so she couldn’t attend the council meetings, spread ill words about her. But this, this was just too much. He crossed a line. He messed with her children.

It was not Myrcella’s fault. She was an innocent girl who had to pay for her uncle’s nasty machinations. And Cersei was helpless to stop it. But she wouldn’t send her daughter unprepared. Myrcella wouldn’t be a victim of this terrible system that eats little girls. Myrcella will never become a manipulated little sheep, like that silly Stark girl they tried to force upon Joffrey. No. She had to prepare Myrcella for what awaited her. She would have to talk to her. Now.

Cersei sat at the table and watched her two youngest children share a meal together. Myrcella and Tommen loved each other, but thanks to that seven times damned traitor of a brother she had, they wouldn’t be able to enjoy each other’s company for a very long time. Cersei watched with a mixture of pride, ominous sadness, nostalgia for what was to come and barely contained rage while the two young children laughed together at the table.

Not now. Not yet.

After breakfast it was time for their lessons. After their lessons it was time for lunch. After lunch it was play time. After play time it was time for an evening snack. Cersei didn’t want to interrupt any of that. Her daughter had a right to enjoy every minute of the precious little time she still had in the city with her family and her friends. So she waited until it was her time to be with Myrcella. Her time and only hers.

*

“You have such lovely hair” Cersei told her daughter as she brushed her long golden curls. “But soon you will have to brush away the knots on your own. I won’t be there to do to for you.” _Thanks to your cunt of an uncle_ , she wanted to add but held her tongue. Myrcella loved her uncle.

“I know how to do it” she replied cheerfully.

Of course she knew, it didn’t take a maester chain to brush hair, Cersei thought. “Show me” she smiled and gave her daughter the brush.

As Myrcella started untangling the knots and straightening small strands of hair at a time, Cersei couldn’t stop herself from just looking at her daughter. She was beautiful, and this idiot Martell prince was getting far more than he ever deserved. The Martells. Stupid Imp!

“Things are different in Dorne” Cersei started. She needed to prepare her daughter. “They are not as civilized as we are. Not quite as savage as the northerners but certainly not nearly as refined as people in other regions.”

“Sansa is from the north. And she’s not a savage.”

“No, she isn’t. But neither is she very bright, is she? She’s dull and boring, not like you.”

“I like her.”

“Of course you do. You’re a sweetheart” Cersei smiled. “But do you think Sansa is prepared to be Joffrey’s wife? To be a Queen?”

“She’s too young.”

“Like you. Young, beautiful and sweet” Cersei said and gently grabbed the brush from her daughter’s hand. “Let me do it.” She sat behind her daughter and continued stroking her hair, silently relishing the closeness with her child. “But unlike her, you will not be sent there like a lamb to the slaughter” she spat through gritted teeth.

“What do you mean?” the girl asked confused.

Cersei took a deep breath and sighed. It was time to begin.

“Your role as a wife. What do you think is expected of you?”

“I don’t suppose we’ll be married for some time yet. I think I will first get to know Prince Trystane, we’ll become friends, we’ll fall in love and then we will marry.”

“Sounds beautiful, doesn’t it?” Cersei smiled condescendingly at Myrcella’s back shaking her head. “And after you marry?”

“We’ll have children. Many children. And we will live in the castle and play with them.”

“Are you excited?”

“I don’t know” the girl shrugged her shoulders. “On the one hand, yes, I am. I’ll be marrying a prince and having his children. But part of me is a bit scared.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know Dorne. I don’t know the Martells. I don’t know Prince Trystane. I hope he will be nice to me.”

“He’d better! Or he’d have to face me!” Cersei joked and was happy to see her daughter laugh as well. “But you’re right. It is indeed an exciting prospect. Soon you will be a child no longer and you need to be prepared for what’s coming.”

Myrcella remained quiet waiting for her mother to continue.

“As the wife of the Prince of Dorne, what do you think are your duties?”

“Be a good wife. Love him. But he’d better love me too!” she grinned echoing her mother’s words. “Have his children. Help him with the castle. Comfort him.”

“Yes” her mother nodded noncommittally. “And who will comfort you? Who will help you?”

“My husband, I suppose. He’d better!”

“No. Men are no good. Do not expect your husband to comfort you, to help you. Do not expect anything from men that you can get yourself.”

“Not all men are bad. Father was a good man. So are uncle Jaime and uncle Tyrion.”

“They bring you gifts and they laugh at your jokes, but do you think they listen to you or care about you and what happens to you? No. All men care about is their power. And as women, we’re not supposed to get in the way of their power. Or so they think. But we can have power as well.”

“You have power.”

“Yes, because I made it that way. Your father never listened to me. I was a good wife and gave him children. I did my duty. But I did not stop myself at just doing my duty. Make sure you get what you deserve.”

“Did father not love you?”

“Of course he did.” _Of course he didn’t, but no need to worry her about that now. The oaf is gone, dead and buried._ “He loved me as his wife. But I had to gain my space in power, he didn’t give it to me. My own father also denied me my space in power. My brother” _the cunt that sold you,_ “tried to undermine my place in power. But I’m still here. I’m the Queen.”

“Yes you are” Myrcella turned around to face her mother and gave her a sweet smile. She reckoned her hair had been brushed long enough so she remained facing her mother. “And I will be Princess of Dorne.”

_Oh, sweet innocent Myrcella, you’ve no idea._

“Yes, sweetling, you’ll be Princess of Dorne. And don’t let anyone take that away from you. No husband, no man, no Lord, no servant, no filthy Sand snake bastard from Dorne can take that away from you. I’ll always be here for you. And I can be there at your side the minute you need me.”

“Thanks mother”

“You will make your own place. You have a beautiful smile. Polite smiles and sparkling eyes open many doors. Polite eyes and sparkling eyes hide your deep innermost thoughts. Don’t let men tell you what to do or where to stand. You have your own voice, let it be heard.”

“Yes, mother” Myrcella replied starting to feel a bit more apprehensive.

“Men say our duty as a wife is to provide them with heirs. Well, our children are our heirs, not theirs. We carry them, we bear them, we birth them, we raise them. You will have beautiful children, and they will be your heirs, whoever the father is.”

“Will their father not be my husband?”

“Of course sweetling. And if he isn’t, just make sure everybody thinks he is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Appearances hide truths, sweetling. As long as the men around you think you’re fulfilling their expectations, you can do what you want, and nobody can take anything away from you. Men are easily fooled”

“Polite smiles and sparkling eyes…”

“Hide truths” Cersei nodded finishing the phrase. “Your uncle is sending you to Dorne because he thinks this will suit his needs and he expects to achieve power through you. Your power is for you and only you to use, not for your uncle or any other man to claim. With power you will have many enemies, envious ambitious people who will resent you and will try to take things from you. Don’t let them.”

“I will try to make friends.”

“It’s lonely at the top. People who reach out to you are not your friends. Powerful women like me, or like you will be, were not meant to make friends. We were meant to make people serve us. That’s how you get things done. Power breeds more power. We were born to be powerful, you and I. But you need to make it happen yourself. Nobody will give it to you and many people will try to take it from you.” _My father, my husband, my Imp brother, Ned Stark, my good brothers, lickspittles at the Council. And I will not be there to protect you from men like them._

“Mother, you’re scaring me. I never thought being the wife of a prince would be so dangerous.”

Cersei was going to answer but stopped herself. Myrcella was young and had her whole life ahead of her. Dorne was different. Yes, they were savages, but what they lacked in refinement they also lacked in cunning. What she had said was enough for now. Myrcella would not be sent to Dorne unawares, but no use scaring her either.

“Don’t worry, sweetling. You will be fine. You will thrive in Dorne. You’ll make a great Princess.” _You will not be a little dove._

“I hope so!” she sounded excited. “Thanks mother.”

“Goodnight, sweetling.”

“Goodnight mother.”


	9. Hoster - Brynden Tully: "You do Duty, I'll do Honor"

**_ 9) Hoster – Brynden Tully: “You do Duty, I’ll do Honor” _ **

The two young men were sitting across one another at the table. Their pursed lips and clenched fists were a clear indication that they had been arguing for a long time.

“Bethany Redwyne”

“Bethany Redwyne?”

“Yes, Bethany Redwyne” Hoster repeated, infuriation and frustration getting the best of him. 

“Why her?” his brother Brynden asked.

“Why not her?”

“Not my type”

“Not your type?”

“Not my type” Brynden repeated defiantly.

_Boom!_ Lord Hoster Tully slammed his fist on the table and glared at his younger brother.

“You’re a disgrace to House Tully. Family, Duty Honor. Do these words mean nothing to you?”

“None of those words are Marriage.”

“You think you’re clever. Some sort of glorified rebel?”

“No. I’m being true to myself.”

They fell into another awkward silence. They had been here before, and probably would be here again. Hoster had married his wife and hopefully his beloved Minisa would be able to give him heirs soon. But his younger brother kept refusing to marry and he couldn’t even fathom an explanation as to why.

“If not Bethany Redwyne, then who?

“Why any woman at all?”

“Do you love men?” he asked horrified, not so much for his brother’s sake, but for the stigma it might bring to his house.

“Why any marriage at all?” Brynden rephrased the question.

“Because it’s our duty.”

“It’s your duty. You are the Lord of Riverrun.”

“What if something happens to me? I have no heirs yet. If you don’t have heirs, when you die this House will pass on to some other RiverLord and everything our forefathers have done would be in vain.”

“I want to be free to decide.”

“But we’re not free to decide.”

They had reached an impasse and neither was willing to budge. Hoster insisted his younger brother needed to marry and fulfil the responsibilities his status implied. Brynden was adamant in his desire to remain unmarried and did not want to yield to his brother’s demands. They had been having the same conversation for years now.

“Hoster,” the younger brother started, “Minisa is a wonderful Lady. She’s pretty, funny and very pleasant to be with. She obviously loves you and I know you love her. Hopefully you will live together for many years and you will have lovely children. You will run this castle to the best of your ability with the guidance of your wife as you have done so far. When it’s your time to go, hopefully you will have a son who’s old enough and trained enough to fit your shoes. Hopefully you won’t need me.”

“Hopefully. But what if…”

“If the time comes and the situation is such that you need me to marry, I will. But in the meantime, let me be free.”

“We don’t choose to be free” Hoster replied dejectedly. 

“You can’t choose to be free because you’re the eldest. As the eldest you have the right to become Lord. You also have the responsibility to become Lord. I don’t.”

“Brynden, I don’t want to fight you any more.”

“I know you don’t. Neither do I”

“But you promise that should the time come you will marry.”

“Yes, I promise.”

They nodded at each other and shook hands solemnly.

“You know that people will label you the black sheep of the family, right?”

“Wouldn’t that be the black fish of the family?” Brynden winked at his brother.

“Blackfish?”

“Has a nice ring to it, heroic even,” he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

“Is everything a joke to you? This is a serious matter Brynden,”

“I know Hoster, I know.”

“You’re shying away from your responsibilities.”

“I’m also shying away from the benefits, am I not?”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’ll become a knight. I’ll fight. I will defend you and your family. I’ll fight for the Riverlands.”

“That’s honourable at least, I suppose.”

“Family Duty Honor, brother. You do Duty, I’ll do Honor. And together we’ll take care of the Family.”

An agreement had finally been reached.


End file.
